


Chicken Soup for the Dudebro's Soul

by ShinyHappyGoth



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Background Aziraphale/Crowley, Canon Compliant, Crack, Devil's Dyke, Gen, Legends, POV Outsider, Podfic Available, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Post-Canon, South Downs, Tourism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28269396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShinyHappyGoth/pseuds/ShinyHappyGoth
Summary: Chanctonbury Ring, a prehistoric hill fort covered in beech trees, is a point of interest near Devil's Dyke on the South Downs. Local legend has it that, if you run around it seven times anticlockwise, the Devil will appear and offer you a bowl of soup in exchange for your soul.Local legends are weird like that.
Comments: 38
Kudos: 108
Collections: Outstanding Outsider POVs





	Chicken Soup for the Dudebro's Soul

"...anyway, Chanctonbury Ring," said Emma, skimming the Wikipedia entry on her phone as they approached the tree-ringed earthworks. "Prehistoric hill fort, original purpose unknown, abandoned sometime around the mid-fourth century BC. Reused as a temple during the Roman period. Sorry, two temples. One had a bunch of pig bones in it, so they think it might have belonged to a boar cult; sounds like your kind of party, Chad. Beech trees originally planted in the 18th century, replanted after the Great Storm of 1987 tore the old ones up, which was also an opportunity for more archaeology, yadda yadda... Oh, this is fun. According to local legend, if you run around the whole thing seven times counterclockwise, the Devil will appear and offer you a bowl of soup in exchange for your soul."

Derek snorted. "What kind of exchange rate is that?"

"Maybe it's really amazing soup?"

"I could go for some French onion."

Chad eyed the copse appraisingly. "Looks like, what, a quarter-mile lap? Maybe a third-mile?" He immediately took off without waiting for a reply.

Emma sighed. "Of course he is."

"Come on, you knew he would as soon as you said it. It's fine, we're here to enjoy the view anyway, he can do it while running if he wants." Derek trudged the last handful of yards to the edge of the trees, removed his Rebel Alliance necklace, and hung it from a branch near where Chad had begun his circuit so it dangled prominently.

Emma took a couple of panorama photos of the surrounding landscape—the view _was_ spectacular—and then the two of them ascended the grassed-over ridge that was once the hill fort's rampart. They loitered there for a minute, waiting for Chad to finish his first lap.

Derek waved as Chad came around the bend. "We're gonna have a look inside, man. Left you a lap marker."

"Thanks, bro." Chad raised a hand as he passed and slapped the necklace, setting it swinging.

Emma and Derek headed in among the beeches. Aside from the rampart, which was too distinct a ring to be natural even if time had worn it low and smooth and covered it with greenery, no traces of ancient habitation were evident to the untrained eye, and none of the trio were archaeology majors. They strolled about, appreciating the trees and spotting the occasional bird.

"Where do you get a legend like that, anyway?" Derek asked. "Soup for your soul?"

"Wiki says that one book says it came from an old pagan ceremony which involved a dance followed by a feast. I guess Christianity did its usual thing and made whichever deity was involved the devil."

"Should we tell Chad that part?"

"God, no, have you _seen_ him dance?"

"Good point."

They paused to admire a particularly impressive exposed root system.

"What else is near here?" Derek asked.

Emma consulted Wikipedia again. "A dew pond and some other archaeological sites. Two cross-dykes to the west and east, some saucer barrows and… hlews? Hlaws?"

"Whats?"

Emma showed him her screen.

They spent the next minute or two attempting to pronounce _hlæws_.

Derek made his way over to the edge of the ring. "You doin' okay there, Chad?" he called.

"Doin' great, bro!" Chad hollered.

"Cool." Derek took a few pictures of some especially picturesque sheep, then headed back in. He found Emma, who was trying to ID some birds.

"So what should we do for dinner?"

Emma checked. "Steyning has tearooms, a smokehouse and grill, Italian…"

"Or we could just have evil soup."

"Ha ha."

They debated the merits of the local dining options for a while, without coming to any real conclusion.

Derek still seemed to have something on his mind.

"Okay, so I get how it started, but how does a legend like that hang on? It doesn't make _sense_. It's not the kind of thing there'd be any real temptation to do. Someone who actually _wants_ to sell their soul would want to get way more out of it than that, and someone who, I dunno, is really desperate for soup could use their energy to get some more efficiently than running laps and still have their soul at the end. The only kind of person who'd even _consider_ it is…"

"Chad."

"Yeah. Except he doesn't consider stuff, so that doesn't count either."

"I dunno what to tell you, hon. I guess people don't put that much thought into their legends."

"Well, maybe they _should_ ," Derek said stubbornly.

"Do we need to start a petition demanding a higher caliber of local legend?"

"Is that so much to ask?"

"In some versions, it's porridge or milk instead."

"Not really an improvement. Is the milk still in a b—"

There was a sudden crack of thunder. Derek broke off, startled.

Someone swore loudly amongst the trees. Then there was an approaching sound of cracking twigs and rustling leaves.

From the direction which Emma guessed to be the center of the copse, a figure approached. It looked like it would quite like to be _stalking_ towards them, in fact, but the terrain was not conducive to it. As it approached, it resolved itself into a rangy, black-clad man, who gave them a brief death glare before pulling a pair of designer sunglasses from inside his jacket and sliding them firmly into place.

"Right, where's the smartarse?" he demanded.

"Uh?" said Derek cogently.

Ignoring this, the man sniffed the air and turned to look somewhere behind them and a bit to the side.

A moment later, from that direction, there came the sound of Chad crashing through the underbrush. "Whoop whoop, get some s—" He caught sight of the man and jogged to a halt.

The man in black turned his glare on Chad, very obviously despite the sunglasses. Then he reached into his jacket again and pulled out a small package, which he threw, snake-fast, at Chad's head.

Chad's hands didn't come up quickly enough to prevent the plastic cup from striking him in the forehead, but were in time to catch it after it bounced off. "Ow," he said out of reflex more than pain. He blinked in bewilderment at the object in his hands. "Cup a Soup to Go!" he read. "Chicken & Vegetable."

The man gave him one more disgusted look before pulling a smartphone out of his jacket. He tapped at it a few times and raised it to his ear. After a few seconds, he gave a small nod and seemed to relax slightly. He started walking in Chad's direction, causing the latter to step aside in alarm, but he had clearly tuned all three of them out entirely now and strode on past.

"Yeah, it's me, angel. Bloody tourists again. ... Well, I can't help it, can I? I'm nearest. I swear, one of these days I'm gonna take an axe to this place. … _No_ , no, of course not. … Yeah, I know. Just pause it until I get back, okay? ... It's the two vertical lines, it's _been_ the two vertical lines for more than half a century, for crying out loud. … Good. I'll be there as soon as I… Yeah. Yeah, fine, I'll pick some up on the way. …"

They watched the man saunter away in the direction of the South Downs Way trail.

"Chad?" said Emma.

"Yeah?"

"You remember what I told you about impulse control and considering the consequences of your actions?"

"Yeah?"

"This isn't _remotely_ what I had in mind, but it's a very good example regardless."

"Oh, yeah." Chad's brow furrowed. "So, wait. Does this mean he gets my soul?"

"I don't know. It might. He didn't look like he _wanted_ it, though."

"Yeah." Chad considered this and brightened. "Score, free soup!"

**Author's Note:**

> When I told my friend [Brandy](https://www.instagram.com/sinclairjewelry/) about the whole South Downs thing, she looked up some local sites of interest and alerted me to [Chanctonbury Ring](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chanctonbury_Ring), which conveniently (or inconveniently, if you're Crowley) happens to be near Devil's Dyke, making it very likely that Crowley would be the nearest demon to it at any given time...
> 
> Thanks to Brandy and the folks on the Ace Omens server for beta-reading and other assorted feedback, and to [Custerdoge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Custerdoge) for naming Emma and Derek. Chad named himself, there wasn't much I could do about it.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Chicken Soup for the Dudebro's Soul](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28342071) by [ShinyHappyGoth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShinyHappyGoth/pseuds/ShinyHappyGoth)




End file.
